


Pool and a Bet

by LembraginiCC



Series: getting together fluff [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Flirting, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, fairgameweek2020, past qrow branwen & summer rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23168773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LembraginiCC/pseuds/LembraginiCC
Summary: For fair game week 2020 day 1 - flirtingQrow was bored and looking for entertainment when he came across Clover playing pool. Playing a game with him would be more fun than returning to his empty room.The bet simply adds a little drama to the evening.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: getting together fluff [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666666
Comments: 32
Kudos: 115





	Pool and a Bet

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue how to play pool and the only research I did was for terms and tricks. Just focus on Qrow and Clover and everything should work out fine aldfjaldj

Qrow was bored.

It wasn’t often that he had free time, but he usually spends it with the kids or at a bar. Currently, though, the kids were busy with each other and their own activities and, well, bar’s out, especially considering his withdrawal shakes and headache. Last thing he needed was temptation, which left him wandering the halls of Atlas Academy hoping for a distraction.

Qrow pulled out his scroll and opened up a map of the academy. Reading into the different rooms, he found one labeled for entertainment. If he was lucky, it’d be empty.

* * *

Of course, it was already in use.

Soon as he neared the room, he could hear distant clacking and thumps. Pool, probably. He slowed to a stop. Did he really want to deal with people right now? But, did he want to return to his empty teacher’s apartment?

Pulling a hand out of his pocket, he opened the door.

From one pool table, Clover Ebi looked up with a neutral, yet amicable, expression that relaxed into a warm smile.

“Qrow! Good to see you.” He was bent over the table, cue in hand and lined up for a shot.

Qrow nodded back, “Hey.” He returned his hand to his pocket to hide the shakiness. Walking to the kitchen area on the far wall, he opened up the fridge looking for juice. “You want anything?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Hm, a cola? If there’s any left.” Qrow turned back before Clover made his shot. Grabbing a cola and a bottle of orange juice, he joined Clover at the table. There were only a few balls left, and Clover just sunk two of them. “Thanks,” Clover said, grabbing the offered drink.

“Sure,” Qrow opened his juice, eyeing the table, “you come here often?”

Clover took a drink and hummed. “Sometimes, when I need some time apart from the Ace-Ops, and nothing else catches my fancy.” He turned to Qrow, “How about you? What’s motivated you to leave the nest?” Qrow watched Clover start removing balls from the pockets, seemingly ignoring his own unfinished game.

Snorting, Qrow raised a brow at Clover, a smile twitching at his lips. “Well,” he dragged out, “all the chicks are keeping themselves occupied.” He shrugged, “Didn’t really have any set plan besides getting something to drink, but if you still want to be alone…?” he trailed off.

Clover tilted his head at him, then set his drink down on a separate table behind him. “How about we play a game, you and me? Nothing serious, we can keep it casual.” He walked around towards the wall, where other pool cues hung in racks.

Qrow leaned against the table at his back, stretching out a leg, eyeing him. “Sure you’re not just checking to see if you can beat me at every game we play?”

“Is that a no?” Clover asked over his shoulder, with raised eyebrows.

“Hmph. No, I’ll play,” he pushed off the table, “ain’t afraid to test my luck,” he finished with a crooked grin.

Clover grinned back, handing over a cue. “Should I assume you know all the rules? Or would you like to go over the rules?”

“Dunno about the fancier stuff, but you hit stripes or solids into the pockets, 8-ball goes last or you lose… And if you drop in the white ball - cue ball? - The other player gets to put it anywhere.”

Clover nodded, “That’s about it. Like I said, nothing fancy, keeping it casual.” He racked the balls in a smooth, graceful move. Hm. How did he make even the simplest of gestures seem so alluring?

Qrow snorted, “Alright.” Qrow took a sip of his juice while Clover reset the table.

“Want to shoot first?” Qrow shrugged, grabbing his cue and heading towards the end of the table. “Oh, here, before you shoot,” Clover held out the chalk. Qrow reached out to grab it, and Clover’s fingers slid along his palm, as he curled his over the chalk. Qrow’s eyes darted up, red meeting teal, before he moved back, palm tingling.

Clearing his throat, he chalked the cue tip, glancing back at Clover before moving into position. The white ball was already in place, so Qrow leaned over the table, placing the cue stick in place by his thumb. Biting his lip, he tilted his head, adjusting the stick until he was satisfied. His hand was shaking a bit, but. Whatever. He made his shot, breaking the figuration. Watching the balls hit each other and the walls, a single stripe sunk. Which was nice. The white ball sunk, too. Not so nice. He sighed.

Clover chuckled, “That’s not bad, considering it’s the opening break shot.” He moved past Qrow, lightly bumping their shoulders together, “Do you play often?”

“Nah,” he replied, watching Clover consider the table. Bright, teal eyes narrowed and focused. Qrow took a sip. Clover found an opening he apparently liked, stopping to place the ball and lean over. The light fixture directly overhead did wonders for his facial structure. Not to mention the way his bandana seemed to stretch around his bicep as he lined up a shot. Now that Qrow was looking, and no longer trying to avoid staring at his partner’s ( _Partner? Teammate? Coworker?_ ) body, he noticed Clover was dressed down in Atlas Academy sweats, with all their over the top branding. Of course, Clover’s shirt had its own personalization, with the sleeves ripped off.

Qrow laughed behind his drink. Not looking away from his target, Clover gave a small smile, “Something you want to share?”

Looking away with a grin, Qrow replied, “Nothing much, just, uh, seems like sleeves don’t last long around you.”

Clover laughed and made his shot. Not bothering to wait and watch whether he made the shot, which he did, the cocky bastard sunk two solids, he turned to Qrow with a light smile. “After awhile you get used to the cold,” he shrugged. Smile turning to a smirk, he continued, “Are you complaining?”

Qrow chuckled, cheeks heating up, looking down at his drink with a smile, “Pfft, at the chance to see you in clothes other than your Atlas uniform? Not at all. Not that your pajamas are too different considering they’re covered in logos.” He looked back up, blush slightly managed, with a raised eyebrow and a haughty look.

Clover stared back with a small, smug smile. He sucked at his teeth with a considering pout, obviously looking Qrow up and down. Qrow was resigned to spending the rest of the night with a perpetual blush. Lifting his eyes back up to dark red ones, Clover’s smile grew a bit, “I have heard you’re not Atlas’s biggest fan,” he tilted his head, “that why you’re wearing your own pair of _pajamas_?”

Qrow had bought his own tank top and sweats to wear on his downtime once he saw what Atlas gave its newest recruits. Call him petty, but he refused to advertise for Atlas unless they paid him.

Not to mention the thinner cloth didn’t leave him as hot. His sweating was already bad enough.

Clover continued, “At least with the commissioned pair, your tattoos would’ve remained hidden.” Gaze zeroed in on Qrow’s shoulders and upper arms.

“Heh, uh, yeah, um, it was a sort of a… STRQ thing. Got tattoos together. Some of us more than others.” On his back were black wings. Circling around his upper left bicep were roses, their thorny stems wrapped around each other. On his right, a band of scales. Dragon, specifically.

Clover leaned back, considering him. Probably wondering whether or not to probe what was most assuredly a sensitive topic. Qrow swallowed, “I don’t- it’s not my _intention_ to hide them, but they’re pretty clear identifying marks.”

Clover chuckled, moving a bit closer, “Funny you use that as your excuse, what with your feathery hair and striking, red eyes,” he leaned in, did his voice get deeper? “Hm, I’d say the color is closer to amaranth than rose. You’re plenty unique even without tattoos.”

That fucking look again. The bedroom eyes, soft smile that’s bordering on a smirk, a marginally quirked eyebrow. Qrow took a drink in order to organize his thoughts. Setting his juice down, he picked up his stick and headed towards the side of the table nearest the white ball. “Tattoos either drive people away or draw them closer, and I’d rather not answer questions about them or have people just touch them out of nowhere.” He went to walk past Clover, who stepped back _just_ enough for their bodies to brush. Avoiding Clover’s gaze, he set up his shot, taking a deep breath with the excuse of steadying his hands.

Clover hummed, “That’s not fair. You shouldn’t feel the need to hide yourself just to protect your own privacy. You don’t deserve that.”

Qrow stopped. He peeked at Clover from the corner of his eye. Letting out a slow breath, he nodded, not able to make himself add anything more. Jerk already stopped him from deflecting compliments. All this kindness and shit, he’s just, so _genuine_ , how’s he supposed to respond?

Recognizing Qrow was going to focus on the game instead of the conversation, Clover kept talking, “I’m glad you decided to show them off tonight.” Clover took a step closer, keeping out of Qrow’s personal space, yet remained close enough to be noticed. As if Qrow was ever _not_ paying attention to the lucky bastard. Qrow shivered and hoped Clover didn’t notice. He didn’t mean to show off anything, he just, didn’t feel the need to cover up? He shrugged at Clover, sparing a glance before breathing deep and taking his shot. Standing up, his necklace fell back against his chest. The metal felt cooler than usual. A striped ball hit another striped ball, and they both fell in the pocket. Qrow grinned.

“Nice shot.” Fuck he had lost track of Clover, who had taken a step closer. Qrow imagined he could feel the heat of Clover’s body, but that wasn’t realistic. Clover had a… _look_ on his face. Granted, when they were alone together that tended to be his default expression, but now…

Ah. Qrow recognized that look. Calculation. Clover wore it during combat often enough, when glaring down his opponent. The way Clover was looking at him… He’s felt like prey before, faced down Grimm bigger than some buildings and stood tall and unshaken. But here and now, he felt more like prey than ever before. And he liked it. His chest felt tight. Hopefully he wasn’t about to get sick.

Clover walked around behind him, _circling_ him. Qrow felt a tingling down his spine, like a warning. He snuck a glance at Clover’s face, but he was staring at his shoulders, his tattoos. He lifted a hand between them, towards the scales. Clover glanced up, returning eye contact, and tilted his head in question. Letting out an exhale, Qrow nodded.

Gently, Clover’s fingertips traced the scales, their sharp points and smooth lines. He brought his other hand up to touch the tattoo from both sides. The heat from his hands felt scorching. His hands looked bigger next to his slimmer arms. The thought that one of Clover’s hands could wrap all the way around his bicep should have left him affronted, but he only felt enraptured.

One of his hands trailed upwards and stopped on his shoulder, near the top of a black wing. Clover leaned in, closing the space between them ever so slowly.

Tracing the hem of Qrow’s top, Clover looked up from beneath his eyelashes and asked, “May I get a better look?” Qrow’s stomach felt somehow both heavy and light at the same time. Not exactly knowing what he was signing up for, he nodded. Clover wet his lips with a quick flick of a tongue that made Qrow’s breath hitch. With one hand, Clover pulled at the edge of the shirt, exposing more of the tattoo on Qrow’s back. Warm breath fanned across his skin, and Qrow quickly faced forward.

Now Qrow could _definitely_ feel Clover’s heat against his shoulder. Did he have to stand so close? A blush was spreading across Qrow’s face and down his neck. Clover’s breath contrasted against the coolness of the room making goosebumps spread across his skin.

Knuckles whitening on the cue stick, Qrow fought to keep his back from becoming too tense. No doubt Clover could already tell he was flustered, but, dammit, he still had some pride to preserve. It’s too early in the game to become putty in his hands. Speaking of, Qrow barely repressed a shiver, those fingers were skating across his skin as if he were something special, something to be admired, treasured.

Those hands finally pulled away, and Qrow blinked open eyes he didn’t know he shut. Clover walked around him, looking at the table, but Qrow saw the pleasure present in his expression, in the barest curl of his lips and the crow’s feet of his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing, and, by the Brothers, did confidence look damn good on him.

Qrow walked away to grab a couple stools from near the bar top, to get some distance to piece himself back together. He set them down by the side of the table that faced the rest of the room, not too close together but neither too far apart. Sitting down, he lifted his bottle of orange juice to his face and to the back of his neck. He felt too cool and too warm all at the same time.

“Hey, Qrow?” Bringing the juice down, he spared a glance upwards, Clover was leaning against the table, facing Qrow. “Thank you, for letting me see your wings.” Qrow lost the rest of his hard-won composure. Clover was looking back at Qrow not with arrogance but gratitude. “Someday, if you want to, I’d like to know more about them.” The way Clover could flip between flirtation and praise left Qrow gobsmacked. And Clover just, he kept being so _sincere_ , as if it came naturally to him, left him without a second thought for how it would affect his intended audience. Except, he did know. He knew _exactly_ how he affected Qrow, how he made him feel valued and appreciated. Understood.

Clover was always extending a hand out, endlessly waiting for Qrow to reach back, no matter how long it took. Qrow experienced a lifetime of friends who either died or grew distant, and yet. _And yet._

Clover reached out first. He didn’t pull away when Qrow brought up his baggage or brought down the mood with his worries and fears. He only ever left a respectful space between them for Qrow’s comfort, never fully abandoning him. Clover didn’t see Misfortune when he looked at Qrow. He only saw a person who was alone. Who inflicted loneliness upon himself to protect others. And Clover didn’t care about all that. Hell, somehow he was _attracted_ to this mess of a human being.

Qrow fidgeted with the cue tip. Nodding his head, he looked into Clover’s eyes. That teal color that had become so familiar, so _comforting_ in the short time they’d known each other.

“Sure, lucky charm. Sometime, I’ll,” he took a breath, “I’ll tell you whatever you’d like to know,” he finished with a barely there smile.

In the same, soft tone, Clover replied, “I’m looking forward to it.” Breaking their eye contact, and releasing the tension, he turned back to the pool table, leaning forward to line up a shot.

Qrow leaned back, carefully, on his stool. Tilting his head back, he stared at the ceiling, wondering how he was going to survive the rest of this game. His emotions were whiplashing all over the place.

Returning his attention to the table, Clover had his game face back on. Qrow couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face if he tried. He had it bad. Glancing over a well-toned bicep, Clover shot him an equally smitten smile. What a couple of losers they were. At least Yang wasn’t here to witness this hot mess.

Qrow winked at him. Clover blinked, before laughing with an open-mouthed grin. Yeah. They were goners.

Clover made his shot and sunk two more of his solids. Leaving him with three solids left while Qrow had four stripes left.

“This might be the closest game we’ve played, so far,” Qrow couldn’t help but needle him.

Still with a shit-eating grin on his face, Clover made his way over to the stool beside him. Qrow looked over the balls left and wondered at his next move. He ignored the sounds of the stool scraping the floor as best he could until he felt a thigh against his own. Looking over, Clover was sitting a lot closer than where the stool was originally placed. Qrow tried to send an accusatory look but it probably only looked fond. Still grinning, Clover bumped their shoulders, nearly sending Qrow to the ground. Laughing, Clover grabbed him around the shoulders, pulling him in tight.

“Watch it, boy scout. If I get too injured to play, then I win by technicality.”

Clover burst out laughing, “Is that how it is?” He leaned in, eyes shining.

Qrow nodded, mischief clear in the curl of his smirk and narrowed eyes, “That’s how it is.”

“Ha, I suppose it’s in my best interest to look out for you then, isn’t it? Would hate to lose because you can’t even sit on a stool.”

“Hey!” Qrow tried to push him off his own stool, which almost led to them both toppling off, since Clover refused to release him. Laughing again, Clover righted them.

With flushed cheeks and a cheery disposition, he leaned in to nuzzle against Qrow’s ear, “Careful now. Would hate to end such a great day by having to see medical.” Qrow could feel the smile in Clover’s raised cheekbones, smushed against his face.

“Ugh,” Qrow bent his head towards his shoulder, pushing Clover’s head away. Pushing Clover’s stupid, handsome, laughing face away, he stood up to make his play. He could still hear him laughing behind him, almost giggling at this point. Qrow didn’t even bother pretending he wasn’t having just as much fun messing around, his own smile just as wide.

Clover hadn’t calmed down by the time Qrow sunk a single stripe into a pocket. Still leaning over the table, he looked over at Clover, who was bent over the stool with one foot resting on the seat, smothering a smile with his hand. Eyes so narrowed they were almost closed, he looked at Qrow with such _endearment_ , all the breath left Qrow’s lungs in a large exhale. Stepping away from the table and back towards the stools, he maintained eye contact.

( _This feeling, is it-_ )

Clover’s laugher quieted with every step that closed the distance between them, until Qrow took a seat beside him. Red eyes looked back and forth between teal. Clover kept a small smile on his face, staring right back at him, before glancing down, towards his neck. Eyes flicked upwards, to meet Qrow’s with a mischievous look.

Qrow’s brow furrowed a bit, face warm, as Clover seemed to be thinking through something. Clearing his throat, Clover smoothed his face into a more professional look, immediately putting Qrow on guard.

A small smirk twisted his lips, “Here, let me get that.”

“What-” Clover reached out, one hand grabbing the cross, while the other grabbed the clasp which had slid forwards. Slower than necessary, he slid the clasp backwards, keeping contact with Qrow’s skin all the while. He let go of the clasp at the back of his neck, then smoothed it out, needlessly. He left his hand there, thumb rubbing small circles in his skin and fingers curled around his neck. Qrow quivered and tilted his head back, just slightly, into Clover’s hold. From this close Qrow could see the slight dilation of Clover’s pupils. He was sure his eyes looked the same. Clover backed off then and stood up, finishing his drink.

“Since we’re currently at a tie, I propose we raise the stakes,” he turned, facing Qrow with a hand on his hip and a cocksure grin on his face.

Qrow leaned back and raised his brows, “Ah, since I went first, and it’s your turn now, you’re probably gonna be in the lead. Not sure I wanna take that chance.” Clover was introducing a new game.

“Come on, Qrow,” his grin turned a little sharper, “It doesn’t have to be about winning. It could be about, hm,” he turned to the table, as if he was trying to think of something. He snapped his fingers, “How about, we bet on whether I can complete a trick shot? Like, say, hitting the cue ball and making it jump over your stripe just there, and hitting my solid into the pocket.” He gestured with a flourish, as if he came up with the plan on the spot and hadn’t planned this out.

Qrow raised a brow, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Uhuh, let’s say you manage it, what do you win?”

Clover leaned in as well, and, with a soft expression and tinted cheeks, he whispered, “How about a kiss?”

Qrow froze. _Breathe, Qrow!_ With a slow inhale and exhale, his gaze wandered about Clover’s face, from his eyes to his mouth and back. He licked his lips, noticing Clover focus on the movement.

So that’s how he’s gonna play. After all this back and forth, teasing and flirting, he’s stepping it up a notch. Taking this “will they, won’t they” phase to the next level. Qrow consciously relaxed his grip on the cue stick, and leaned back, thinking. This would change things. Make what was between them… more real. Did he want that? Was he ready?

Clover continued, in that same soft voice, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Qrow. I’d take a kiss on the cheek, forehead, or even no kiss at all. Whatever you’re up for.” _Fuck_ , Clover _fucking_ Ebi just had to be such a kind-hearted asshole. Looking into his face, Qrow can tell how sincere he is. He wanted a kiss more than anything right now but would accept a no without complaint or a feeling of annoyance. They could continue as they are. He was letting Qrow control the pace.

Shit.

He could hear his heart beat in his ears, his breath coming more quickly than it should be when at rest. He tried to calm himself, slow his breathing, and find something to focus on.

Like those beautiful, aquamarine eyes, that always seemed to be trained on him.

 _Oh_.

Qrow broke eye contact, looking down, chuckling and raising a hand to the back of his neck. It’s Clover. It’s just Clover. The Captain of the Ace-Ops who arrested him. The partner who fought beside him. The friend who never hesitated to support him. What was there to be afraid of?

With a crooked smile and his fiercest blush to date, he dropped his hand and looked back up at Clover, who’d been, as usual, patiently waiting for Qrow to give him an answer. Willing to accept a rejection, if Qrow wasn’t ready or decided he was never going to be ready. Looking into those teal eyes, Qrow realized he had made his choice when he first decided to stay with Clover, instead of hiding away.

Standing up, he shot Clover a cheeky smirk, “How about we raise that bet?”

A spark lit up his eyes, Clover bit his lip, still beaming, “How so?”

“You win the bet, _only_ if you sink the rest of your solids with trick shots. _Then_ , you get a kiss,” Qrow said, crooning the last word. Clover seemed to freeze, before he reanimated with a deep breath. Qrow had to bite his cheek to control his reaction.

_(Hook)_

Clover’s eyes no longer even looked teal, with how dark they were. Focused on Qrow. He tilted his head at Qrow and said in a low voice, “That doesn’t seem very fair, now, does it?”

“You worried you’ll run out of luck, lucky charm?” he threw back with a wink and a smirk.

_(Line)_

Clover licked his teeth behind his lips. His eyes roved over Qrow’s face, and further down, to his exposed collarbones and shoulders. Qrow couldn’t suppress the shudder. Clover’s eyes darted back up to meet red. Together, they seemed locked in each other’s orbit, gravity pulling them closer together, round and round until they’d eventually collide. Qrow tilted his head with a raised brow. _The ball’s in your court._

Clover huffed a short laugh, the sound rougher than usual. “Alright,” teal locked onto red, “I’ll take that bet.” He tilted his head back, expression turning cocky, “And if you win? What do you get?”

_(Sinker)_

Qrow would never be able to get rid of his blush at this rate. With a fragile smile that seemed to enthrall Clover with the sheer _emotion_ conveyed, Qrow said, “How about a date?”

It was Clover’s turn to be shocked. For a terrifying moment, Qrow wondered, in the back of his head, if this had been a mistake after all. But only for a moment, then Qrow took that thought and crushed it. Clover was brave enough to ask for a kiss, always being the first to reach out. Clover deserved to be treated just as gently. So Qrow waited, trembling.

Slowly, Clover relaxed the tension from his shoulders, expression relaxing into one of pure adoration. Stepping forward, he raised a hand to Qrow’s face and caressed his stubbly cheek. Qrow leaned into it, closing his eyes to enjoy the touch, and heard Clover’s breath stop. Opening his eyes slowly, Qrow’s gaze bored into Clover’s, who seemed captivated by every movement Qrow made. “Well?” Qrow breathed, with a tender expression, “Are you taking the bet or not?”

“Screw the bet,” Clover let out, eyes half-lidded, leaning in slowly, carefully.

Qrow stood there, feeling Clover’s heavy breaths upon his face. Just as their lips came close to touching, breath fanning each other’s faces, Qrow ducked beneath Clover’s arm and dashed for the other side of the table.

For a second, time stood still. Clover was frozen like stone. Qrow’s tongue darted out, a smirk playing across his lips, eyes darting towards the door, but-no. He wasn’t going to run away. He was just- making a strategic retreat. Yeah.

Clover straightened up, his raised hand curling into a fist that he lowered calmly to his side. He turned his head, his mouth wore a slight smile, “So that’s how it is,” he said softly.

Qrow sucked on his lip. His voice was… deep. His stomach was doing flips. “Yeah,” his voice cracked, how embarrassing, “that’s how it is. You get a kiss after you win the bet, remember?”

Clover chuckled, turning around.

Qrow was trembling, adrenaline surging through his veins. This game was getting intense. A wild smile split his face. He had to restrain the hysterical giggling that wanted to burst out of his chest. _Can’t show weakness._ His body shook in restrained humor.

Clover tilted his head. Qrow felt like prey again. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Qrow spread his hands out on the pool table’s edge, leaning across it, beckoning him closer, “You wanted to play? So, let’s play.”

Clover laughed, a strained sound, then _stalked_ towards him- the table. There was no other word to describe it. This wasn’t like on a mission, that wary stride or determined sprint. This was predatory. Heh, Clover was definitely no stick in the mud.

Picking up his cue stick, Clover twirled it in his hands, gaze never leaving Qrow’s. There barely seemed to be a smile on that face, but it was there, small and feral. _Oh_ yeah, he’s into it. Qrow was almost vibrating out of his body with how tense he was. Feeling simultaneously trapped and over exposed. Clover looked him over so thoroughly, he might as well have not been wearing clothes.

Focusing back on the pool table, Clover asked, nonchalantly, “How do you see this night ending, pretty bird?”

Breath stuttering, Qrow swayed back and forth, near bouncing on his toes, never taking his eyes off the biggest threat in the room. Qrow let out a jittery laugh, “Honestly, at this point I’m just… winging it.”

Clover shared in the laugh, sparing a look for Qrow, that look in teal eyes so burning it damn near held him captive. Clover turned back to the table, releasing Qrow from that gaze, like he could move again.

“Remember to bounce the ball,” Qrow supplied helpfully. Clover grunted, before stepping back, and taking another look at the table and at Qrow. “C’mon, c’mon, lucky charm! What’re you waiting for!” he goaded.

Clover quirked a brow, “Hm.” Moving around the table, he aimed for a separate solid, lining up a shot with the cue stick held behind his back.

Qrow furrowed his brows, “Thought you were gonna bounce it? Is this a trick shot too?”

“’Course it is. After all, a trick shot’s anything that’s more entertaining than the usual, right?”

Qrow squinted at him, but he didn’t know enough about pool to argue the logic.

The awkward angle accentuated the solid muscle across Clover’s shoulders and back. And Qrow had a great view with the loose top he wore. Muscles tensing and releasing as he prepared the shot, his back arched backwards. _Damn_ , did Clover know how to show off. Qrow gulped down some juice, hoping he didn’t choke. Even from that pose, Clover managed to sink a solid, however, he also sunk a stripe.

“Ha!” Qrow boasted, “Was that your semblance or mine?” But as he shifted to look at Clover again, Qrow was taken aback by the playfulness in his smile. “Oh, you bastard, you did that on purpose.” He pouted.

Clover laughed, “Oh, what’s with that look?” Smiling as he slowly made his way around the table, towards Qrow.

“Hey! It doesn’t count as my win, unless it’s fair,” Qrow said, rounding the table in the opposite direction, trying to make it look like he was searching for a shot instead of running away.

Clover snorted, “Fair? That’s rich coming from you,” he leered, trailing his fingers along the table’s edge as he pursued Qrow. “But don’t worry, little bird,” he gave an unconvincing grin, “I only want to help you out. Considering we’re partners and all.”

Qrow bit his lip. _Partners._ Should he be feeling guilty for denying that kiss? STRQ always messed around, Taiyang worst of all. But this wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like he was stringing Clover along, only delaying the inevitable. However, Clover… wasn’t acting like he felt rejected. More like he was preparing his own move.

“Please, Qrow? Let me give you a few pointers.”

What a load of bullshit. But hey? Could be fun.

“Pfft, you waited until the end of the game to show me a few tricks? Yeah, I believe that,” he rolled his eyes. Shooting a smirk at Clover, “It’s not like I need help after all, but,” he drawled out, “if you insist?”

“I do.”

The short phrase was said in a voice that was so much deeper and rougher than the usual tone, it nearly tripped him up. Instead he stopped, letting Clover crowd him against the table. “This what you call helping?”

“Mmmm, merely want to correct your form.” Qrow snorted, but let Clover push him around to a better spot. Clover pointed at a ball and explained how it’d bounce off the nearby wall to hit a striped ball into a pocket.

Qrow pursed his lips, “Mkay, I think I got it from here,” and made to disengage himself from Clover’s hand on his shoulder that had steered him around.

Clover’s grip tightened. “Hang on a moment. This isn’t like the usual shots you’ve been taking. This will be a little more complicated. Here,” he held Qrow’s hips and shifted them to a supposedly better position, the heat of Clover’s body all along his back.

Qrow’s face was on fire, but he still held a smirk when he twisted to glance over his shoulder. “Y’know, I really don’t see how this is gonna improve my skills.”

Clover leaned in, allowing Qrow to have an even better view of his profile, and said, “How about you just trust me? It’s a casual game remember?”

Qrow was almost successfully distracted by that jawline, but he refused to give in so easily. He snorted and leaned backwards, resting against Clover’s chest. Tilting his head back against Clover’s shoulder, he spoke into his ear, “Please, we made a bet remember? We’re long past casual. It’ll take more than that to distract me.” Straightening himself up, the hands on his waist tightened and twitched, like Clover had to stop himself from pulling Qrow back. That thought made Qrow smile wide like a goof. If his nieces saw how gone he was for an _Atlesian_ he’d never hear the end of it. Deities, but this whole evening was turning out to be so much fun.

Clover directed him to bend over the table with the cue stick, and he abruptly lost all composure. His stomach was in knots, and he just _knew_ Ebi would be able to see a blush on the back of his neck. Of course, even in this compromising position, Clover didn’t cross any lines, even though Qrow almost wished he would.

One hand trailed up his back, accidentally ( _purposefully?_ ) rucking up his tank top, exposing the small of his back. Clover seemed to ignore it, not that Qrow could tell from this angle, and adjusted Qrow’s hold on the cue.

“Try not to hold it too tightly or too loosely,” his hand, not the one on his back which kept him slightly bent over, covered his right on the stick. Despite every other more _indecent_ display between them this evening, it was this soft yet firm touch of Clover’s hand on his that had Qrow falling silent. Light chuckles at the scandalous view they made died down, and all his focus was turned towards each point of contact between them. Suddenly, he lost all humor in the situation and, instead, only wanted more.

It was like every sense was magnified, simply from Clover’s presence. His necklace reaffirmed itself in reality, and Qrow could once again feel it swaying beneath his neck. The edge of the table pressed almost uncomfortably into his hips. The chill of the room kissed the skin just above his pants. And the warmth, the fiery touch of Clover’s hands on him. He could feel the way the hand on his back pressed into him, each finger splayed outwards atop his spine. The gentler touch of Clover’s hand on his holding the cue, as it maneuvered him into a better position. The faint graze of Clover’s thigh against his ass.

He almost couldn’t hear himself think over the sound of his own breathing. The sensuality between him and Clover ratcheted up, as if the evening had been leading up to this moment. If it weren’t for the stakes, he’d want to give in, surrender, but, fuck, he wanted more.

A single night of passion wasn’t enough. Clover may have been testing his luck with betting on a kiss, but Qrow was laying himself bare, exposing his weaknesses and insecurities. Hell, if Raven could see him now she’d be disgusted. But screw her. Screw the tribe. What is love without letting yourself be weak? Knowing that your partner will keep you safe and trusts you to do the same.

Qrow took in a shuddering breath and the stillness of the room shook him out of his stupor.

“… Qrow?” Clover’s voice was no longer as deep or playful. He almost sounded concerned. Wary? Fuck, he had stayed quiet for too long.

Twisting his head, he made sure to smile reassuringly at his partner. “Yes, lucky charm? Any more advice about my posture or do you need to fix the angle of my toes next?” he teased. He and Clover worked well together, both on and off the field. At first it unsettled him, how well Clover seemed to read him. It went against every instinct to allow himself to be so open, yet Clover was… Clover. If he could truly be himself with anyone, it would be with this one man. And he wouldn’t let this game of theirs end on any note other than positive.

Clover fixated on his face. Probably trying to read his mind, Qrow thought fondly. It surprised Qrow how tolerating and even _encouraging_ Clover was of any and all shenanigans and foolhardiness. However, he never let anyone be made uncomfortable, and for that, Qrow relaxed into the hand on his spine. Qrow knew his face was still flushed, but, honestly, that was just going to be the way of things and Qrow might as well accept it. Looking back at Clover, he couldn’t help the way his eyes narrowed the slightest bit, eye lids relaxing as he let himself stare at his partner’s gorgeous face.

Clover seemed to approve of whatever he saw as well, smile returning to his face along with a playfully raised eyebrow. Heh, this guy was trouble.

“You think you’re ready to take your shot then?” Interesting phrasing.

“I was ready before your manhandling, four-leaf.” Clover let out a surprised laugh.

“That’s… not a usual nickname, but I’ll take it,” Clover smiled at him, warm and sincere. Qrow smiled back, feeling that warmth blossom in his chest. Clover then stepped back, hands slowly sliding off, leaving a phantom sensation of body heat and tingling nerves in their wake. Qrow wanted him back, but first he had to kick his lucky ass.

Turning back to the game, he lined up the shot, hoped the angle would benefit, and pushed the stick forward. Quickly leaning up and stepping back, he almost tripped over Clover if it weren’t for those hands grabbing onto him again. Hm, maybe a little bad luck isn’t too bad if it gets him close like this.

Clover steadied him with a little grin, and they turned to see the striped ball fall in the pocket. Clover dramatically turned to face him, expression one of exaggerated shock as he brought a hand to his chest. “Well, I’ll be! It seemed you did it!”

Qrow laughed and pushed him, which, frustratingly, barely moved him. He’s lucky he’s attractive otherwise Qrow would be a little insulted.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Qrow waved a hand in the air, “Thank you ever so much, Captain Ebi. For if it weren’t for you, I would _never_ have made that shot.” He finished with a dramatic flourish and a mocking bow, which he was quite proud of. There’s a science to how deep the bow is to convey the most disrespect. Qrow knew. He looked it up.

Clover laughed, and Qrow joined in. They leaned against each other, soaking in their shared warmth and holding each other up. As they calmed down, they grinned at each other and leaned in to rest their temples together as one.

Huffing a bit, Qrow spoke lowly, “You know it’s your turn now, right?” Clover hummed. Wiggling closer, and pressing their heads together more firmly, their hair brushed against each other’s skin. With Clover, nearly every shared touch feels more intimate than any physical embrace he’s shared in the past.

With one last sigh against Qrow’s face, Clover stood up to find a good position.

Qrow called out, “Remember you have to bounce it!”

Snorting, “What’s with you and the bouncing?” Clover’s eyes never strayed from the table, focused on his task while catching every word out of Qrow’s mouth. Qrow could get addicted to that kind of attention, if he wasn’t already.

“Hey! You’re the one that promised me a cool jumping trick shot. I’m just trying to get my money’s worth.”

Clover scoffed, before letting that thread of conversation end. Qrow knew better though. There was an amused smirk just waiting to be released, and Clover was denying him. Standing up, Qrow brushed back his bangs and moved to stand across the table from Clover. Checking where teal eyes were fixated on, he couldn’t help but comment.

“That solid is a tad close to the 8-ball there, chief.”

“I’m well aware, and it’s Captain.” Qrow guffawed, eyes almost closing in mirth. Clover finally allowed the smirk and looked up, before he stopped, expression freezing.

Qrow noticed, because of course he did. He’s a spy, he notices everything.

Leaning forward, setting the stick down to place his hands on the table, he tilted his head, “What’s up, Clover? Don’t think you’re up to the task? After all, my last stripe is between you and that solid.”

Clover stared at him, the tension increasing once again. Maybe Qrow underestimated how good he looked with his bangs pushed back? Clover tongued his cheek, and Qrow almost slipped and fell into the table right there. If he accidentally hit the balls, would that count as some sort of foul? Best not risk it, more firmly grabbing the edge.

“You should slick back your hair more often,” Clover murmured. He tilted his head, as if it could give him a better view. Qrow nearly swallowed his tongue. “To be able to see your face like this… your eyes are even more breathtaking.”

Ah. He just had to go and- fuck. Qrow looked away, because he would suffocate from being unable to draw breathe at the intensity of Clover’s stare. Taking a breath, he looked back. Clover still staring, still captivated, and yet his expression felt softer. A smile not found on his lips but in the curve around his eyes.

“You look beautiful.”

Clover’s eyes widened. Oh. Qrow said that. Well, he meant it wholeheartedly. He’s never spared a thought for the nigh unnoticeable differences in colors, but he’ll always be able to recognize that particular shade of blue-green.

Clover smiled and, oh, did Qrow want to jump over the table and kiss him until he couldn’t hold his smile anymore. He swallowed, leaning back and gestured at the table, “Well? I wanna see the pool ball grow wings and fly, chop chop.”

His smile only widened, and he threw a wink as he chalked the tip of his cue stick, fingers and wrist twisting with smooth efficiency. Shit, he did not need any wires crossed with fucking chalk of all things.

Quite suddenly, Qrow realized that if the ball actually achieved lift off, it would most definitely end up hitting him. Casually, he sauntered off towards the stools. Clover spared him one last glance before preparing his shot.

It was a good thing Clover was so focused, otherwise he’d have definitely noticed how intently Qrow stared at him. From the wrinkles above his brow to the tensed muscles of his arms and shoulders, he looked a dream. Qrow hooked his feet around the legs of his stool to resist the temptation to head over there and _touch._

Qrow licked his lips.

“Better be careful there, boy scout,” Qrow breathed, “the 8-ball is close to the pocket.” Really, was he hoping his semblance would activate?

“I know, pretty bird,” the words said offhandedly. Clover took the shot, and Qrow held his breath.

The ball jumped over the stripe and hit not just Clover’s solid, but the 8-ball. Both fell in.

“Hm. Seems like I lost the bet.” Clover calmly and casually stood up out of his position. Qrow bit a knuckle, knowing his smile couldn’t be hidden. Clover raised a brow, “What was it that you won, Qrow? A date?” Qrow’s shoulders were trembling until he finally let loose and laughed, teetering on his stool. He slapped his knee and bent over, grabbing his stomach. This jerk. This beefy shithead. Qrow should’ve known he was going to throw the game as soon as Clover tried to abandon it for the kiss earlier.

Laughter quelling. He leaned back on his stool and opened his eyes and startled. Clover had gotten a _lot_ closer during his little breakdown. Looking down at him with dark eyes and a sweet expression, Clover reached out. Qrow tried to dodge under, but Clover was ready this time and grabbed him about the waist, swinging him around.

Cue sticks clattered to the floor behind them, forgotten.

Backing him up against the table, Clover ducked his head to better gaze into Qrow’s eyes. “Sorry, little bird, but I was hoping to keep this conversation face to face.”

Table against his back, arms about his waist, Qrow settled comfortably in his embrace, wrapping his own arms around broad shoulders. He gazed back into those gorgeous eyes with only affection and amusement.

( _Oh, Summer_ )

“The bet was for a date, Cloves. Not a kiss,” he whispered.

Clover pouted. Qrow laughed, letting his head hang back. Regaining his composure, he looked at Clover’s expression which once again wore that deer in the headlights look. Oh this poor soldier had it bad.

Luckily for him, so did this dusty old crow.

( _What would you think, if you could see me now?_ )

Qrow unraveled one of his arms to bring a hand to Clover’s face, and gently rubbed his thumb against his bottom lip. Clover gasped, the air rushing around his thumb. In a quick movement, Clover switched his hold, gripping Qrow tightly around his thighs and lifted him onto the table. Now it was Qrow’s turn to gasp. Not wasting a moment, Clover pulled Qrow from behind his knees towards him, now resting between thin legs.

Blushing furiously, Qrow kept one hand on his face and tightened his other around Clover’s back, twisting his fingers into his soft shirt.

Clover leaned in, touching their noses, and Qrow nuzzled him back. Hands ran from behind Qrow’s knees and slowly up his thighs. They left a blazing trail of heat and a shiver started at the base of his spine.

Clover nuzzled him with a mischievous smile, “Are you cold? You’ve been shivering all night.”

 _Asshole_. Biting his lips on a grin, “You offering to keep me warm? Not sure how you’d manage considering none of your clothes have sleeves.”

Clover pushed closer, pressing their cheeks together. “I’m sure I can come up with something,” he whispered, voice so breathy Qrow felt it more than heard it. Pushing back, Qrow closed his eyes, feeling Clover keep a hold of one thigh while his other hand traveled back, grazing his ass, and settled on the small of his back, skin to skin.

Qrow pulled him closer with the grip on his shirt, and his other hand moved to cradle the side of Clover’s head, fingers spread out around his ear and in his hair, thumb on his cheek.

Relaxing, Qrow let his weight shift against Clover’s hand, letting the man take his weight, arching against Clover, bent slightly back over the table. The hand on Clover’s shirt slid down to settle between his shoulder blades, feeling the corded muscle beneath his shirt.

The only real relationships Qrow has ever had have been with family and friends. He’s had some sexual dalliances here and a romantic crush there, but there was only ever a tension. A question of how long it would last and when they would leave. He had never felt truly comfortable with them, because he refused to trust anyone outside his small, close circle.

And then he came to Atlas, where an attractive, kind, supportive military man tied him up in bolas and shifted his perspective. Things between them had progressed so naturally and gracefully, Qrow hadn’t realized the full effect it had on him until now, where everything was coming together.

Clover’s hand carefully inched up his back, beneath his tank top. Qrow sighed, sliding his hand back to cradle the back of his neck, fingers playing with the short, brown hairs. He felt the bones of Clover’s face starkly against his own, contrasting with the smooth skin and silky hair. It felt like Qrow was fine tuned to every miniscule detail that made up Clover Ebi. It would be scarier if he wasn’t sure Clover felt the same.

Had he ever had a relationship like this? This easy comradery and mutual understanding? The only one he could think of was-

( _Is this, is this okay?_ )

He could feel his heart pounding, could Clover feel it too?

“Qrow?”

He leaned back. Clover looked concerned again. He wiped a hand against his own face and looked down at it, feeling the wetness. Looking up, brows still furrowed, Clover brushed the back of his knuckles softly across Qrow’s cheek, where his tears had rubbed against Clover’s.

“What’s wrong?” Clover held his face, mirroring his own hold, the two of them pressed together from hip to chest, neither letting themselves be separated any longer than necessary.

Qrow let out a weak laugh.

“Nothing,” he smiled, “Never been better, love,” he whispered softly. Clover inhaled a stuttering breath. Mmmm. Clover let his hand fall back to Qrow’s thigh, pulling it up to rest on his hip. Qrow let his other leg fall, hooking around Clover’s leg. Did Clover feel the same desperate need to occupy the same space?

Clover was staring at his lips, so intense with desire it took his breath away. He looked up, locking eyes with Qrow. The pupils nearly overtook the teal. In any other instance, Qrow would be sad to see the color go but here, he couldn’t feel anything other than longing.

As one, they leaned in, and pressed their lips together. It was a kiss so soft, so earnest, so overcome with affection, Qrow nearly lost his mind. All he could think about, all he could focus on, was Clover.

He heard a quiet moan, and Clover pushed closer, leaning them further back over the table. Qrow tilted his head to get a better angle and slotted their lips together firmly, brushing them together. When he could spare a second to think, he felt near vindicated by how well their bodies fit together. Qrow tightened his legs, pressing ever closer. Clover moaned more loudly this time and darted out his tongue, whether to lick at Qrow’s lips or to wet his own, it didn’t matter. It sent a spark of heat flaring up inside him.

Qrow groaned and opened his own mouth. He sucked Clover’s bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling it gently and dragged a hand down his bicep, squeezing around his bandana. Clover exhaled roughly, air wheezing past Qrow’s cheek.

Clover pulled back, and they pushed their foreheads together, gasping for breath. Qrow slowly opened his eyes, to see Clover already staring back with the worst case of bedroom eyes he’s ever seen. Their lips continued to brush as they simply looked into each other’s eyes, sharing the air.

“Hey,” Qrow whispered.

Clover smiled, “Hey.”

Licking his lips, feeling how wet and swollen they were, Qrow had to take a moment to swallow. Clover choked on a breath, diving down to kiss his neck. Qrow let his head fall back, staring upwards through the ceiling. Clover pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses into his neck, leading back and up to his ear. Closing his eyes, Qrow felt Clover kiss his ear and heard him speak. Qrow shuddered at the warm, wet panting he could hear so clearly.

“Do you want to take this back to my room? I have a private suite,” Qrow felt him smirk against his skin, “Perks of being Captain.”

Qrow laughed, choking when he felt Clover add tongue to his kisses. The warm wetness made that heat in his body spread. His hand spasmed on the back of Clover’s head, and he raked his nails through it, causing Clover to shiver. Qrow groaned when he felt it, his legs wrapping completely around Clover’s waist to tie them together.

Clover lifted the hand from Qrow’s thigh to his hair and gripped it firmly, yet gently, forcing Qrow to make eye contact.

“Qrow.”

Lips quirking into a facsimile of a smile, “Yeah?”

“Answer the question. Please.”

“Y-yeah. Yes. Let’s go.”

( _Summer, I think I’m falling in love_ )


End file.
